If Edward left for good
by TheRealBellaCullen
Summary: what would Bella do if Edward never came back. rated M for suicide. be kind its my first story... SEQUEL is being written!


**Suicide**

A/N: i am not and will never be the great and powerful Stephanie Mayer! so as much as i wish Edward is not mine to tie to a bed and have my way with.... :(

I opened my newly attained silver pocket knife, marveling at its curved, sharp edge. The blade smoothly ran upward in a slight curve from the root of the handle, where other tools were stored inconspicuously. And then the blade reached a fine point, a needle waiting to thread through blood. The knife itself glistened in what light filtered in through the closed bathroom curtain, shining in its new glory. The knife alone was glorious, sinister, but the handle could not be overlooked. It was made from ivory, I guessed. A smooth, pure white, connecting with the base of the knife. And on the bottom, a tiny black eye carved into the ivory. I brought the blade down to my pale finger of my left hand, and wiped a shallow slice across the skin, marveling at the vibrant red against my almost translucent skin. My skin had paled since Edward had left, although I cannot place why. I paled when he left me in the rain, and had stayed that way ever since. The shallow cut released only a single drop of neon blood trickle down my frail hand. I had needed a new blade for some time. My old one could barely pierce the skin without effort. But I had never attained one as fancy as this. No, my old ones were simply for my nightly rituals. But this one was special. I had saved up for this the past year. All the birthday and Christmas checks went into my special piggy bank. Waiting. Every last penny that I gained working at the seven eleven around the corner was all stashed into the piggy bank. Patiently waiting, until yesterday, when I counted up and saw that I had enough for the knife I wanted. I had felt a tang of reluctance when I purchased the knife. Thinking that, I would have no money left over. Not a speck. But washed those thoughts away when I assured myself that I would have no need for money, not where I was going. And I didn't care to make a will. Let them take what they want. There is no one special to give to anymore, Besides Edward. I felt a sharp pain in my heart thinking about him now. I loved him. And I was certain, at the time, that he loved me. Or at least he did a fair job at pretending. He never was easy to read, always kept his feelings bottled up. He never really talked to me about love. But all the same I was certain he loved me, Stupid, Idiotic me. Falling head over heals to the first boy who talked to me. Giving myself up to his tricks, ploys. His lies. But despite it, I really did love him. Weather or not he loved me back. But he was gone. He had left me alone. And there was no turning back.  
Charlie was out, fishing with Billy. And Jacob was at a friend's house. Perhaps snorting crank, or messing around with his guy friends. None of which his father knew about, of course. To them, Jacob and I were the perfect children. Jacob put up a good show. One that neither of our parents saw through. And I, well I suppose I really had been the perfect daughter. Until Edward left and shattered my heart. Then, my life broke to pieces and I was a wreck. That was a month ago, and now it was all going to stop.  
I ran started the water in the old Victorian bathroom and let it fill up to where I thought it would just cover my neck. I didn't bother with running the water warm. Cold would do. I didn't want to waste precious heat on myself. And I was certain that there would be enough feelings going through me for my brain to focus on trivial things like the temperature of the water.  
I turned off the tap and proceeded to lighting candles. If I was going to do this at all, I would do it right. I took the carefully penned suicide note from the closet, and placed it on the corner of the marble sink, folded elegantly, the envelope blank. It was formally addressed to no one, although writing it; I noticed I was writing to Edward. Explaining how it wasn't his fault. He couldn't have known the effect it would have after he left. After that night and all his false promises. It wasn't his fault I had fallen completely in love with him after that first kiss. He was just messing around, but I was head over heals. I undressed, to my black bra and underwear, and let my brown hair fall loosely around my shoulders. I climbed into the freezing water with no more than a slight shiver, my blade clasped in my hand, now covered in a thin veil of blood.  
I lowered myself into the water until my body was wrapped in the cool envelopment of the translucent water.  
I lied back and rested my head on the curve of the bathtub, and raised the blade, griped by my right hand, into clear view. I gripped the ivory handle and pulled the blade out of its concealment, and marveled once more at its intricate beauty. I lifted my left wrist, and brought down the knife, slicing a thin line vertically down the center vein of my wrist. My wrist immediately flushed crimson, and blood trickled down my forearm. I traced the slit, cutting deeper, opening the wound and letting loose more blood. The deep ochre blood pooled in the crease of my elbow, and then overflowed, trickling down, and spread slowly through the water, turning it a slight pink, getting darker by every drop. I ran over the cut several times, cutting deeper, loosing more blood, and nearing death quicker by the second. I switched the blade, now drenched in a thick stream of blood, to my left hand before it became too weak, and began cutting across the vein in a similar fashion. If not a slight bit clumsier from my weak hand, due to loss of blood. When I was certain I had cut through the vein, and had reached bone, I closed my eyes, feeling faint. Images of you, Edward, flashed through my mind. The first time you spoke to me, not caring that all the other kids stared. The first time out cheeks brushed, and the first time you told me you loved me: Your eyes twinkling with delight and a crooked smile playing around your perfect lips, before speaking those three words softly, and then your lips met mine, tenderly. And then your back, shoulders thrown backwards, hung held low, tears forming in your eyes, and your shoulders shaking slightly at your cries as you left me in the rain.  
A single tear formed and rolled down my cheek into the now red bath water, and I slid slowly down, my head slowly submerging into the water. Stopping, when my feet struck softly against the other end of the tub, and my nose stayed just above water level.  
The images of you got fainter as I lost more blood, and soon you were gone. I let the tears roll freely down my pale cheeks as I went limp and I faded into nothingness…

A/n: comment or the rabid plot bunny's will eat your soul!!! ;D


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